


sweeter than cake

by misura



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24751687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Merlin enjoys a surprisingly peaceful wedding reception.
Relationships: Luke | Rinaldo/Merlin (Chronicles of Amber)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	sweeter than cake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Serenade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serenade/gifts).



"This all feels rather official all of a sudden," Luke said.

We'd been going at it for close to four hours by then, so in a way I saw his point. On the other hand, it had all been his idea, so I felt very strongly that if anyone got to complain about anything, it should be me.

"You could still back out, if you wanted," I said. "Tell you what, I'll even give you a head start. For old times' sake."

He looked deeply suspicious for a moment, then vaguely hurt, then mildly alarmed. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"You sure? It would be no problem at all."

"I'm sure," he said.

"Just checking," I said.

Salesman of the Year at Grand Design, several years running - you'd think I would know better. Maybe you'd be right.

Here I was, pulling stupid stunts that got my then girlfriend alienated because I didn't want her to get too close, to tell her who and what she'd been spending some very nice afternoons with - to say nothing of a number of evenings, nights, and some quite memorable mornings, and there was Luke.

I saw him coming, sure. He didn't exactly make it a secret when he started considering me a friend. (He did, as it turned out, keep some other secrets, but then, what's a few murder attempts between friends? Or cousins?)

"I keep expecting someone to show up and make trouble," Random told me. He looked troubled, but I guess he didn't feel he counted. "It makes me nervous how smoothly everything's been going so far."

I said, "Imagine how the would-be assassins feel, waiting for the right moment to strike."

He did not appear to think that was funny.

"So you finally did for Caine, huh?" Dad told Luke. I supposed I should appreciate his making an effort to fill the traditional role of 'embarrassing parent' at the wedding.

For whatever reason, I found it hard to muster much proper appreciation.

"Yes, sir," Luke said. He looked somewhat insecure, but determined to own up to past misdeeds.

Dad didn't look like the BS was working. "Well. I confess I never liked him much. He framed me for his murder once. And then he stabbed me." His tone made it clear which he considered the graver offense.

Family's like that sometimes: can't live with them, would love to live without them.

"Should I be worried?" Luke asked.

"Always a good idea, generally speaking," Dad said.

"Sir. I want you to know that I will do my utmost to make your son the happiest man alive," Luke said. He must have missed the memo about there not having been put out a casting call for 'embarrassing groom-slash-bride'.

I cleared my throat. "More cake, anyone?" I had few concerns about being left with bottles of unconsumed wine.

Besides, the cake was very good. Aunt Flora's contribution to the happy occasion. She'd insisted, and I hadn't had the heart to refuse her, nor to ignore the simple fact that she'd probably do a much better job of ordering one than I would myself.

"I think I see your mother over there," Dad told me. He left. Headed in the opposite direction, it went without saying.

It's true what they say about no good deed going unpunished, though I sometimes like to think some of the bad ones have their consequences as well. I've been told I'm a hopeless idealist and romantic, though, by someone who ought to know, so take that personal opinion as you will.

"You know, I've been thinking," Luke told me, about four months before my life as a bachelor came to an unexpected ending.

I said, "So have I." I doubted it had been on the same subject, but I disliked feeling like the brawn in our partnership. (I suppose I might have coped being the beauty, but while Luke had voiced enthusiasm over some of my physical attributes, we were both manly men, more give to bouts of machismo than poetry. Or so we liked to pretend.)

"Mom seems to think I'm only hooking up with you the better to be able to stab you in the back later."

"That does sound likely." I had little doubt who'd suggested that particular interpretation to her. Perhaps I would have done the same.

"Merle!"

I shrugged. "I just meant that sounds like your mom."

Luke's expression suggested he found this statement less than convincing. "She's not so bad. I think that if she knew the truth, she'd be happy for me. Honest."

Clearly, he did not think that. "If you say so."

"She's just going to need some convincing."

Because I'm not a total asshole, I didn't tell him whose problem I considered this to be. "I take it you want my help."

"Nothing big or dangerous or anything like that," Luke said quickly. "A small thing. To let her know I'm serious about this."

I said, "What did you have in mind?"

"I've been thinking about sex," Ghost told me.

I decided that I had acted with great wisdom and foresight in pushing people to eat more cake and leave the wine for those who needed it.

Being an idiot, as proven by both past actions and present circumstances, I said, "With anyone in particular?"

"Just the general concept."

I said, "Ah," in an intelligent-sounding way that suggested I, too, had spent many hours considering sex in the abstract sense of the word.

"It seems a bit of a convoluted reason to get married."

"Well."

"Though I expect you have a different perspective, being more physically-oriented and such."

"Probably," I agreed.

Ghost did not proceed to ask me to be introduced to anyone.

Life, I reflected while sipping some excellent red, was good. On occasion, it even felt fair. That was probably the alcohol talking, though.

"He killed Caine," Julian said.

As far as statements went, that was a hard one to argue with, so I chose not to.

I said, "Nobody's perfect."

He said, "If I find him in Arden by himself, he's dead."

I said, "Fair enough." Some arguments, you just can't win.

"Nothing against you, Merlin," he told me. If looks could kill, my wedding night would have been a rather lonely and unsatisfying affair.

Then again, I suppose that when one has killed one's uncle for killing one's - well, let's say lover, a bit of loneliness is to be expected.

Fortunately, we were all rational, reasonable people here.

"Thanks," I said, moving on to the next relative.

But back to the topic of sex. We'd been experimenting for a while, trying to figure out what the other liked, which one of us was more ticklish and where, how we liked our morning coffee (black, in case you're wondering) - the usual stuff.

I had no complaints about the way things had been going and neither had Luke, as far as I knew. Things were good. Our arrangement was one of mutual satisfaction.

"Can you imagine, at one point in my life, I was very disappointed my teeth were so ordinary," Luke said.

I found my imagination entirely up to the job of how eager I would be to experience Luke's less than ordinary dental attributes near certain parts of my anatomy which I had so far been very happy to find in close proximity to his mouth.

"Would've been kind of cool, huh?" Luke went on, reassuring me as to his telepathic abilities.

I said, "I like you fine the way you are."

He said, "Thanks."

We proceeded to pursue more mutual satisfaction.

"I hope you realize," Aunt Fiona told me, "you've made things very complicated for yourself."

I had, in fact, realized this, even if I did not quite see what other options had been available to me. "Everybody needs a hobby."

"True enough." She flashed me a smile.

So I went and got her another glass of wine.

To cut a long story short, or at least to medium length: we managed it in the end, with no casualties but our bachelorhoods, an enormous cake and the contents of a modest-sized wine cellar.

After some of the usual tomfoolery, the wedding guests kindly left us some privacy to consider the bill, the mess and the string of poor decisions that had led to this moment in our lives.

Luke groaned. "I feel like I could sleep for ten hours straight."

"Same," I said.

We looked at one another for a bit. On the one hand, tradition and the first stirring of the natural feelings one gets when left alone with the object of one's desire in a room that includes a bed. (There were rose petals, too. I had my suspicions as to whose idea those had been.)

On the other hand, we'd been there, done that, and had both perhaps rather come back for more when we were well-rested and in a state fit to enjoy what was there to enjoy.

"So," Luke said.

"So," I echoed.

In terms of spousal unity, we certainly seemed to be doing all right.

He said, "Damn it, I'm too tired to beat around the bush like this. You want to - ?"

"Sure," I said, and then, some ten minutes later, "Oh, I thought you meant taking a nap together."

He said, "You're an asshole."

I gave him a few moments to add that he loved me anyway.

He didn't, which felt fair enough under the circumstances.


End file.
